The Solution
by Jellian-Bunny-Jaam
Summary: It's been two and a half years since Sherlock's death. John visits Sherlock's grave, Mycroft has surprising new for John. Who says I am good at summaries?


**The Missing Solution: Chapter One**

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><p>"Hello?"<p>

"John…" Sherlock sounded out of breath; I started to make my way to the hospital.  
>"Hey, Sherlock are you okay?"<br>"Turn around and walk back the way you came from."  
>"No, I'm coming in!"<br>"Just do as I ask!" Sherlock's voice slightly wavered, he was definitely frightened. I stopped, feeling light headed.  
>"Please…"<br>"Where," I walked away from the hospital, completely confused. "Stop there!"  
>"Sherlock,"<br>"Okay look up, I'm on the rooftop," I turned around, looking up. A tall dark figure was on the edge of the building, Sherlock's tall dark figure. "Oh god…"  
>"I-I... I can't come downso we'll- we'll just have to do it like this"<br>"What's going on?" My breathing was no longer in my control, my pulse increasing with every second.  
>"An apology… it's all true."<br>"W-what?" I couldn't get a hold of anything Sherlock was telling me, it seemed so unreal.  
>"Everything they said about me, I invented Moriarty," I looked at him, stunned. "Why are you saying this?"<br>"I'm a fake," _No, you're not. _I wanted to scream at him but I knew if I tried, I would end up a horrible mess. Only one word could reach my lips, "Sherlock," I breathed.  
>"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact tell anyone who will listen to you… that I created Moriarty for my own purposes…" Sherlock couldn't seriously think I would believe him? He would have to try harder than that. "Okay shut up Sherlock, shut up! The first time we met, the first time we met you knew all about my sister!" I said to him almost angry at his words.<br>"No one could be that clever,"  
>"You could," I quickly snapped back. He gave a weak and forced laugh. He paused for a few moments, "I researched you," he sniffled. "Before we met, I discovered everything that I could to impress you." It took all the power I could muster to not rush into the hospital, I was getting agitated. So many lies, I wanted Sherlock to shut up. He sniffled again, "It's a trick, it's just a magic trick."<br>"No. Alright, stop it now!" I stumbled forward, trying to stay on my feet. "No, stay exactly where you are, don't move!" I held my hand out to show I wouldn't move any further. "Alright," I said, close to a whisper. "Keep your eyes fixed on me; please will you do this for me?" I was sure he was crying, his words held so much emotion. "Do what?" I stammered. "This phone call it's, um… It's my note. It's what people do, don't they? Leave a note." His voice suddenly calm. "Leave a note when?" I regretted saying those words, I knew what was happening but I was too naïve at the time.  
>"Goodbye John"<br>"No- don't-" I couldn't keep still; everything was starting to get hazy. Sherlock threw down his phone and got closer to the edge, it gave me a sick feeling. "Sherlock!" I cried. He stepped off the edge, falling. My legs wouldn't move, I couldn't think. My heartbeat was going out of control; I couldn't do anything but watch Sherlock getting closer to the soaking pavement.

I woke up drenched in sweat and dried tears, my breathing, erratic. It had been two and a half years since it happened and that same dream always came back to haunt me. Sometimes I pictured myself as Sherlock, falling and filled with fear. I could never get away from that dream.

I rushed down stairs, my mind filled with so many questions that I couldn't answer. I checked the clock on the microwave, three in the morning. I raced down stairs to the door; not bothering to keep quiet. I stepped outside, the cold air stung my cheeks; I deserved the pain, I deserved all the misery that has fallen upon me.

I slowly walked down the street, not taking any notice to the dark figure getting closer to him. "John," it was Sherlock's voice, the voice I hear speak to me all the time. I can never get rid of that voice. His voice got clearer as the days past; it started five months after Sherlock died.

"I am not in the mood the see you right now. Disappear." I choked. He didn't talk back. I ignored him, walking towards the graveyard; I didn't feel like taking a cab. He followed me the whole way to Sherlock's grave.

"I am sorry, old friend. I haven't brought anything; this was sort of a last minute decision." I grabbed the wilted white roses I set down three weeks before. I sat down beside his grave, talking about what happened the last few weeks.

"I met someone last month, her name is Mary, and she's fantastic. You would have hated her," I gave a light chuckle just thinking how much he and Mary would fight.  
>"Sherlock, I- I don't think I can go on like this. This may be the last time I am to set foot in this place. I just- I can't take being here, looking at your grave." I got up pressing my hand on his headstone.<br>"Mary is sweet, I'm thinking about moving in with her. I've still got your skull; I don't know what to do with it." I didn't realize how much I was shivering. I slipped my hand into my pocket, surprised at what I felt. I pulled out a gun, by the weight it was fully loaded, by habit of course.

I thought about it, on several occasions I was close to doing it. Every time I thought at what Sherlock might think if I had done it, 'Pathetic', 'weak', or 'stupid'. I knew it wasn't right. I shoved the gun back into my pocket and trudged through the wet grass. It had started to rain. I hadn't brought an umbrella and a black vehicle pulled beside me.  
><em>Mycroft.<br>_I ignored the vehicle all the way to Baker Street; I didn't need Mycroft's charity.

A petite blonde stepped out of the vehicle, strangely not Anthea this time. "Please, Doctor Watson, you will want to be quick" she motioned to the vehicle, knowing Mycroft, if I said no I would probably be tied up and dragged to wherever Mycroft seems fit to hold a meeting . I guess it is better than going back to Baker Street. The car ride was longer than expected; I got out of the vehicle to focus on an old building, maybe a warehouse.  
><em>You really do love to be dramatic.<br>_ I entered the building to find Mycroft facing away from me, holding what looked like a blue umbrella.  
><em>That's odd<br>_"Break your old one?" I remarked.  
>"It was a gift." He responded, always acting as if he had a stick up his arse.<br>"Sorry, why am I here?" I retorted. Surly Mycroft has something important to say other than talk about his feelings towards his brother's death of which he made possible. Mycroft was staring into my eyes, we didn't talk for a few minutes.  
>"Alright, if you're not going to tell me why you dragged me two hours out of the city then I have no reason to stay any long-"<br>"Sherlock's alive, John" He blurted.

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><p>Feel free to tell me your opinion, bad, good. just some feedback would be great. Thanks<strong> :)<strong>


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